Classic Poem

AFTER L LYWARCH Hen .

Sweet sings the bird on the fragrant tree
O'er the head of Gwen. In the grave, how lies he
Whose hand once Hin's armour could bend mightily.

Last night, all the night, while slept all his men:
His shield on his arm, by the Llawen sat Gwen:
" Here I stay!" said he, — " son of Llywarch Hin."

Blow, blow on the horn that Urien gave!
With the little gold wreath on its rim. It shall save
Thee, Gwen, at the thrust of the base and the brave.

Last night, all the night, in the dark sat Gwen:
By Morlas ford, the grey morn saw him slain:
" Here I stay!" said he, — " son of Llywarch Hin."

To the ford, while yet the grey daybreak is dim,
The men of Lloegyr are come, brave and grim;
There is blood on his hair where the spears sprang at him.

Oh, sweet sings the bird on the fragrant tree
O'er the head of Gwen; to-night, there lies he;
In the stones and blue clay asleep quietly.

Last night, all the night, while asleep lay his men,
His shield on his shoulder, by the Llawen sat Gwen:
" Here I stay," said he, " son of Llywarch Hin!"

The three best men that all Welsh land had,
Were mine. They went to their death when I bade;
Eithir and Erthir are gone; and Argad!

Four and twenty, my sons were then:
And the gold-torque was theirs, all princes of men!
But the youngest of all, and the best, was Gwen.